


And Then You Were Gone, In A Rush Of Colors

by Chipper99



Series: Destiel One Shots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: "You see color when you touch your soulmate" AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Mention of Blood, Few Changes Though, First Kiss, Human Castiel, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Not Really Character Death, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 01:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chipper99/pseuds/Chipper99
Summary: He hadn't noticed, at first. Not until he stumbled back slightly away from Castiels body, eyes fixating on the open wound from the angel blade, and realising with a sickening horror that it was no longer a dark gray.It was striking, so vibrant that it demanded his attention.'This is red'Set during Episode 3 of Season 9, "I'm No Angel", in an alternate universe where you see colors the first time you touch your soulmate.





	And Then You Were Gone, In A Rush Of Colors

**Author's Note:**

> "Mate I am a literal slut for soulmate sis" - Hodgesicle, 2019

Dean never really liked the concept of having a soulmate. Except, that wasn't _entirely_ true. He ate that shit up as a kid, seeing the happiness that radiated off his parents whenever they were together, his mom ensuring him that "Someday, you'll have that with your soulmate. And you'll be so happy to have found them, that you probably won't even notice the colors."

The colors...

How could he not notice them, if they were to appear? Nearly forty years of living on an Earth that consisted solely of different shades of a muted gray, he was fairly certain he'd take notice of seeing everything in a completely different way, no matter how happy he was feeling.

When he had asked a hunter that had found his soulmate what it was like out of plain curiosity, it was hard not to get frustrated at his attempts at explaining it. It wasn't his fault, of course. How do you describe something that the other person has never seen?

Obviously, it's not all about the colors. No, that was just a side part of what was _really _happening. 

Meeting your soulmate, for the very first time.

Two souls destined to become entwined, finally being joined together. Like the final piece of a puzzle, where everything falls into place.

In his teenage years, the idea didn't appeal to him all that much. Despite being told countless times how his soulmate would be the perfect person for him, the idea that the person he is to spend the rest of his _whole_ life with was already chosen for him seemed completely unfair. It would become such a huge part of his life, shouldn't he get to decide who he loves?

That wasn't the biggest problem, though. The problem was, as much as he hated to admit it, the thought of having a soulmate was terrifying to him. Not when he finds them, but when he loses them.

Because in their line of work, it's inevitable. Getting close to someone is a risky game that almost always ends in death and suffering.

The first time he had seen the effects of losing your soulmate was with his dad. He barely has any memories of his father before Mary was so untimely ripped away from him. He does remember how _different_ his dad felt after. It became a rarity to see him smile, and he became cold and distant, even to his own sons. He no longer had the comforting touch of a loving wife, and now the only respite he found was from the bottom of a bottle.

Dean has already lost people he cared about, was keenly aware of the pain that brought on. But he knew that it wouldn't even begin to compare to the pain he would feel in losing his soulmate, and he just doesn't think he would have the emotional capacity to deal with it. He would fall right into the steps of his father; a bitter, aging man who no longer had a purpose in his life than that of revenge.

Sometimes, he isn't sure whether seeing what happened to Sam with Jess validated his opinion more, or made him see the other side to having a soulmate. After all, he'd be blind not to see just how happy Jessica made Sam. He could feel it radiating off of his little brother the second he introduced him to Jess, and it had pained Dean slightly to see how happy Sam had been without him.

Once, and only once, when they had both had a bit too much to drink, Dean had asked Sam what it was like to have a soulmate.

"It was kind of like... I don't know, like being with them was as natural as breathing. Like you had already known them your whole life."

Dean had never regretted asking a question as much as when he asked Sam if he had a favorite color, as the smile on his face as he reminisced about his time with Jess dropped from his face.

"Yellow. It was the first color I noticed. It was bright and just... _there._ Demanding your attention. It was..." Sam trailed off slightly, bringing the bottle of beer up to his lips and drinking deeply from it. "It was the last color to go, faded with all the others not long after..."

Dean didn't need to hear the rest.

Seeing other people, strangers, out on the streets with their soulmate, seeing how blissfully happy they were would always ignite a deeply buried part of Dean that yearned for that kind of connection. But it was buried down for a reason, as he had come to accept that the negatives far outweighed the positives, especially for a hunter.

Now, every fleeting touch from a stranger that passed by, every accidental brush of a hand from a witness or an officer, every person he fell into bed with, he hoped that there would be no flash of color, no sudden spark of realization. He hoped that he would live the rest of his life in _gray._

Then again, he is Dean Winchester. It seemed that God himself had it out for him, because his worst nightmare came true in the cruelest way that even he couldn't have seen coming.

To say that the past few weeks had been an emotional roller-coaster would be an understatement. First, finding out that the trials of heaven were going to kill Sammy, trying to stop Sam before he finished the last trial, only to realize the damage had already been done. And all at the same time, seeing the angels be cast down from heaven onto earth, feeling the dread in the pit of his stomach that one of them could be Cas.

As it turned out, it would have been easier. It felt like he was being pulled apart by fear. The fear of knowing that without some sort of miracle, that Sam wasn't going to make it. Then there was the other overwhelming fear, the fear that there was a reason that Castiel wasn't responding to his prayers.

Just... Not the reason he was expecting. _Human._ Castiel was human now. Human, and very alone. He wouldn't be able to zap on over to them in a millisecond as he once did. Metatron had spat him out in the middle of nowhere, and it killed Dean that he couldn't just drop everything to go find him and bring him home. No, he couldn't do that to Sammy. Not when he was hanging onto life by a thread.

If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure why he was praying to Castiel in the first place. It had become a sort of reflex to him how, whenever facing something that seemed out of his control.

Castiel was an angel. A soldier of God. He had fought tooth and nail through hell, to drag Dean's soul out of there. He had patched Dean's soul back together, knitted his ripped apart body back together, and placed his soul back where it belonged.

Castiel was pure _power._ Almost like a _'fix it'_ button, where having him nearby automatically made him feel safer, knowing that an angel had his back.

Then again, even if Castiel was still an angel, would he have been able to heal Sam? Castiel had said it himself, the trials were damaging Sam in a way that even he couldn't fix. So if that was the case, what was there left to do? What could _he_ possibly do, to save the life of his little brother?

As he had said, only a miracle could save Sam now. Praying to the other angels was a risky move, considering he had managed to single-handedly piss nearly all of them off by putting a stop to the apocalypse. Who knew that putting a wrench in God's plan would anger a bunch of all-mighty beings whose only purpose was to serve God?

But then, the miracle was received, his prayer had been answered. An angel; Ezekiel, had taken pity on him. Knowing how angels actually were (Especially when he thought back to the way Castiel was the first few months he knew him), having an angel willing to help was... Very un-angel like.

Still, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If this angel said he would be able to save Sam, he had to take that chance, right? Even if it meant tricking his little brother into letting Ezekiel in, that was just a sacrifice that had to be made. He would take a pissed off Sam over a dead Sam any day.

For the first time in a long time, things were looking up. There was still the stress and worry in the back of his mind that Castiel had yet to find his way to the bunker, especially considering he had no way of contacting Cas. Despite that, Sam was getting _better._ Sam's coughing fits were now far and few between, and he no longer saw that dark stain on Sam's tissues that he knew to be blood. Once Sam was well enough again, they'd finally be able to go and find Cas, no problem.

Except, it doesn't work that way. Not when Ezekial is telling him that Castiel is now a wanted man. That now the angels on earth, filled with fury at being kicked from their home, are pinning the blame solely on Castiel. They want their revenge, and Dean would be scared for him even if he was still an angel.

But he's _not._ Castiel is out God knows where, as mortal as they are, possibly with no idea that there are a group of seriously ruffled angels after him.

So that's how they find themselves where they are now, racing towards the room they had been told where Castiel is, with no clue if they were too late. If the reaper had gotten to him before they could.

There's no time to lose. The two of them come to a skidding halt in front of the door, and Dean brings up a foot to kick harshly at the weak spot beside the handle to the door. The wood splinters and shrieks from the force, flinging open and nearly rebounding into the both of them as they charge through.

Dean was certain he had never had a feeling of relief taken from him as quickly as he had. The few seconds he caught a glimpse of Castiel, admittedly looking a little worse for wear, but _alive._ Then, his gaze had slipped over to the red-headed reaper crouched over him, angel-blade still firmly grasped in her hand.

"Cas?!"

The relief was yanked away before the blade had even pierced Castiel’s abdomen.

Charging at her doesn't get him far. Well, not towards her, anyway. Her hand is in the air, and then so is he, catching himself on the top of the kitchen counter before slamming into the wall, sliding back down to the floor. Through his disorientation, he sees a flash of movement where Sam tries the exact same thing as him, only to get the same treatment. Sam sails through the air, crashing into the closet on the other side and disappearing into a pile of neatly hung clothes and shattered wood panels.

The reaper kicks away the angel blade he had dropped, and he knows she's saying something, but he isn't listening. He's solely focused on being as quiet as he can, sneaking closer and closer and as she moves towards Sam.

Something shiny glints out of the corner of his eye, and he sees the handle of the angel blade sticking out from Cas. His heart constricts painfully at the sight, but now is not the time.

Now, this bitch has to die.

He yanks the blade out of Cas, holding it tightly in his hand as he approaches. Watching her strike Sam in the face once he struggles to his feet only adds fuel to the fire, making it all too satisfying to see the shock in her face when he pushes that blade right through her stomach, watching the bright flash of light pour from her entire slowly fade away.

He can barely hear anything through the sound of his blood pounding in his ears, staring down at the reaper's body with complete disdain. It's like a painful electric shock when he remembers why they're there, head snapping over to Castiel, hanging onto the foolish hope that he might have survived.

"Cas?" Dean asks, the blade slipping from his fingers and dropping to the floor, racing over to Castiel’s side.

"Cas?" He tries again, this time louder, as if calling his name louder might wake him up. He lifts his arms up, splaying out his hands on Castiel’s shoulders before moving them up to grasp desperately at his face, searching for any sign of life. A twitch of a muscle, the rise and fall of his chest, _anything._

_"Cas!"_

His voice breaks as his throat tightens, the realization he had tried so hard to force away beginning to sink in.

That's when it happens.

He hadn't noticed, at first. Not until he stumbled back slightly away from Castiel’s body, eyes fixating on the open wound from the angel blade, and realizing with a sickening horror that it was no longer a dark gray.

It was striking, so vibrant that it demanded his attention. '_This is red'_ his mind helpfully supplies as he stared down at Castiel, dumbstruck by what he was seeing.

Castiel’s skin was no longer a light shade of white, now replaced by a tan color that, as he looks down at his own hands in shock, realizes it is nearly the same as his own, if not slightly darker.

In normal circumstances, he would be taking in his surroundings, drinking in all the new pleasing visuals, matching names to colors for the first time in his life.

That's not what he's thinking about right now. Right now, it's the gut-wrenching, heart punching fact that for the past five years, his soulmate was standing right in front of him, unbeknownst to the both of them.

Angels were never assigned a soulmate because, well, they don't have _souls. _But then Cas became human, and he must have developed his own soul. Or perhaps this was God's plan all along, for Cas to be the exception? The one angel to be given a soul.

After all this time, it was his best friend he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

And now, Cas was gone.

He had always told himself that he didn't want a soulmate. That it simply wasn't worth the pain. Now, he wished he had known sooner. He wished the world had bloomed into color the second he pushed that blade into Castiel’s heart, the first time they met. Even if it made losing him all the more painful, what hurt more was knowing that all this time, he could have been with his _soulmate. _

It was too cruel, for him to find out the truth after Castiel had already been taken away from him.

"No..." Dean whispers in disbelief, standing up and taking a few unsteady steps backwards.

Already, the colors were beginning to fade. He hadn't had them for long, and yet, he could still see that his vision had begun to change. They were still there, but not as... _Demanding._ Not as _there,_ in your face. They were beginning to dull, and Dean knew it wouldn't be long before everything returned to the murky shades of gray, black and white.

Something shuffles around over to the side, and he glances over to see that Sam had managed to get to his feet, staring down at Castiel’s body, laid out on the armchair. Dean's vision is brought back to Castiel, such a painful thing to see, yet he can't find it in himself to look away.

"Sam, he's gone," Dean tells him, and saying it out loud only seems to make it feel all the more real, does nothing but make the heartache in his chest grow stronger.

Sam moves forward, towards Castiel’s body, and drops down to his knees as Dean had, earlier before. Dean briefly wonders if Sam needs the time to mourn as he does, but then looks to Sam in utter confusion when he gently holds a hand over Castiel’s body.

In the commotion of everything, he had somehow almost forgotten that there was an angel taking shelter inside his brother. Watching an angel heal is still such a miraculous sight as it was the first time he saw it, the cuts and open stab wounds seemingly being erased, replaced by smooth, untouched skin.

As the last of the cuts disappear from Castiel’s body, Sam suddenly bolts up to his feet, stumbling backward at the movement and crashing back into the wall, collapsing down to the floor. There's a few seconds where he watches Sam in complete bewilderment before the concern for his brother wins out, taking a few steps towards him with his arms outstretched.

"Dean..."

So many times he had heard that deep, gravelly voice calling his name. He had heard it yelled in fury or in panic, heard it muttered in frustration, and heard it spoked in the most uninterested, monotone angel tone, back when Cas still followed the rules to a tee.

Hearing <strike>Cas</strike> _his soulmate_ call his name now, had never sounded better.

"Hey... Hey! Yeah..." He spluttered out, rushing back over to Cas side and placing his hand on Cas side once again, letting it slide down to his leg as he takes in Castiel’s confused expression.

Castiel’s eyes go wide as he stares up at Dean, then snapping over to Sam's unconscious form on the floor nearby.

"And Sam" Castiel finishes, looking back to Dean, still with the wide-eyed expression on his face.

It suddenly hits Dean that maybe, Castiel was seeing everything in color for the first time, and he can't even begin to imagine how confused Castiel must be feeling right now, not only having no idea why he's suddenly seeing in color, but also how in the hell he's even alive right now.

Though, judging by the way he's looking at Dean, eyes darting down to the hand resting on his leg, he seems to be starting to figure the former out.

"Cas...? " Sam says in confusion, his expression matching his voice. "You're okay?"

Castiel doesn't seem to know how to answer that, remaining silent as he looks up to Dean, trying to figure out _how_ he was okay after being stabbed through the stomach by April. It happened, he _knew_ it had happened. He felt the agonizing, fiery pain as it pierced through his body, and within seconds, it was gone. _Everything_ was gone.

Castiel couldn't help but feel slightly puzzled when Dean pushes up and away from him, his worried expression changing into a hardened, much more familiar guarded expression he was used to seeing from Dean.

As it turns out, Dean was right. Losing his soulmate had been one of the more incredibly painful moments of his life. And now that he had gone through it, he never, _ever_ wanted to experience it again.

"Never do that again!" He demands, keeping his voice low and scratchy as not to reveal how vulnerable he was feeling right now.

Castiel blinks up at him in bewilderment before answering with a somewhat unsure sounding "Alright."

Not exactly the answer Dean was hoping for, but at this point, he was way too relieved to care all that much. He takes a slight step back, wiping a hand down his face as if he could wipe away the leftover adrenaline with it. There was a lot they were going to have to talk about, especially considering Castiel might not even know that he is his soulmate. It must be quite a shock to Castiel, both coming back to life and suddenly seeing everything in color, especially since no angel had ever had a soulmate before.

Once he drops his hand back down from his face, Dean notices that Castiel is still staring at him, as if he's seeing him for the first time in his life. It was starting to make Dean feel uncomfortable, seeing the way Castiel seemed to be analyzing every inch of him, his eyes frequently darting back to study his face.

"Cas, you... Stupid question, but you alright buddy?"

Castiel keeps staring at him for a few more seconds before he opens his mouth to answer. He doesn't speak right away, instead closing his mouth again and swallowing deeply, not taking his eyes off Dean's face as he finally responds.

"Your eyes..." Castiel murmurs in amazement, the faintest of a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "They're green..."

A bark of laughter escapes Dean, relief bubbling from him after all that tension, all that terror. He shakes his head slightly, chuckling fondly at the gobsmacked sounding tone of Castiel’s voice.

His laughter slowly begins to die off, though he still has a small smile on his face, matching the one Castiel was giving him in return. At the same time, he racked his brain to figure out a way to bring up, well, _this._

He wasn't sure if it had always been there between the two of them, if he had never noticed or perhaps, pretended not to notice it. But now, knowing that Castiel was his soulmate, it felt impossible to ignore. He wondered if Castiel felt it too, struggling to imagine any kind of situation where Castiel had felt it in the past.

But now, seeing the way Castiel was looking at him, he knew something had changed.

"Dean..."

_'Screw words'_ is what briefly flutters through his mind as he drops back down in front of Castiel, grasping the sides of his face in his hands and kissing him for all he's got. He's well aware of the fact that Sam is still in the room, having seen him struggle back to his feet a few moments before.

Castiel’s eyes briefly widen at this as his hands shoot up to grab at Dean's arms that were still holding his face, feeling quite dumbstruck by what was happening. Something that he never thought could happen between him and Dean.

His fingers loosen their death grip in Dean's jacket, knuckles no longer as tight and wound up, relaxing into a softer hold. He can feel the slight tremor of Dean's muscles under his skin, still shaking from everything that had happened.

A somewhat awkward-sounding cough breaks them apart, and they both look over to a red-faced Sam, who is staring down at the floor as if there was nothing more important right now than the state of his shoes.

"Apologies, Sam." Castiel is first to break the silence, seeing that Dean was trying his best not to laugh at the unapologetic sounding apology, even though he was feeling a little bit embarrassed himself.

"Yeah, uh, sorry Sammy" Dean adds onto the apology.

"It's just uh..." Dean looks out to the window, a new color catching his eye. Almost immediately, he realizes which one it is, and turns back to his brother with a grin. "I can see why yellow was your favorite color"

Dean wished he had a camera on him right at that time to record Sam's reaction. First, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion along with his tilted head, and Dean could physically see the gears turning in his head. Better yet was when it all clicked into place, mouth dropping open slightly, eyebrows no longer furrowed but instead raised up near to his hairline, eyes following his own finger which was switching between pointing at Dean, and then Castiel.

"You... Cas... Is he your..."

"You know Sam, it quite interesting how similar, yet also so different your eyes are to Dean’s. The base color is the same, and yet... I can see Dean’s in them, but at the same time, they're very much your own" Castiel notes, always the observant one.

"Huh," is all Sam can say to that, huffing out a laugh, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Guess I owe Charlie twenty bucks now."

Before Dean even has a chance to ask what that even meant, Sam began to sway on the spot, quickly shooting a hand to steady himself on the wall behind. Dean was up from his crouched position in a flash, holding out his own arm for support if Sam needed it. It's only a few seconds before Castiel is by his side, concern on his face as he watches Sam try to blink away his incoming unconsciousness.

"Sammy?" Dean asks worriedly, ready to catch Sam if he was to drop to the floor.

"I'm okay. I'm okay... Just... A little wiped out. Think I hit my head pretty hard when that reaper threw me" Sam reassured them, raising a hand to his throbbing head as he spoke. 

"C'mon, shake it off man. Cas got _stabbed _and he walked it off." Dean attempted to joke, though fails to deliver the line as well as he usually would through his concern.

"Yeah... How _did _you walk that off?" Sam asked, pushing himself back up and away from the wall, keeping one arm pressed against the wall, just in case. "We both saw it. You looked... You looked pretty dead to me."

"I don't know what happened" Castiel answered honestly, glancing down at his own bare chest and stomach, which was no longer littered with cuts.  
"I felt April stab me, and then... Then I was awake."

"Hey, as long as you're alive, and you're you, I'm not going to question it too much." Dean deflected their questions, resting a hand on Castiel’s shoulders and giving it a fond squeeze. "You have no idea how glad I am to have you back"

Sam's pained groan snaps the two of them out of their gaze, gentle smiles replaced with worried frowns as Sam rubs at his painful head.

"I think... I think I need to go lie down for a while. I'm not feeling too hot." Sam mumbles to them, already stumbling past them and towards the door.

"Sammy," Dean calls after him, pulling Baby's keys out of his pocket and tossing them to Sam, who had stopped and turned in the doorway.

"Get yourself settled. Me 'n Cas need to talk for a bit" Dean instructs, gesturing at the dead body of April and the mess they had made in the scuffle.

Sam gives him a thankful, but weak smile in response, tucking the keys away in his pocket before making his way out of the room, heavy footsteps leading away through the hall before becoming too quiet to hear.

Now, it was just the two of them. Castiel has a hand on his own arm as he shuffled somewhat awkwardly on his feet, trying to figure out how best to approach the subject and break the silence they had found themselves in. Dean meanwhile was stuck between looking at Castiel and the dead reaper on the ground, a million questions in his head, no idea which one he should ask first.

"So, uh... We gonna talk about this?" Dean asked, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

"We probably should."

"You're gonna have to give me a minute here. Its... A lot to take in."

"I don't really understand what's happening myself. Angels were never supposed to have soulmates."

"But you're not-"

"Not an angel anymore. But Dean, I'm not the first angel to lose their grace and turn mortal. It’s rare, and usually kept quiet, but it's happened. Never, in any of those times, has the angel been given a soulmate. It just... Doesn't happen."

"So, what does this mean? Do you have a soul now? Can that even happen?"

"I... I suppose I do. After all, it's not possible to have a soulmate without one." Cas summarised, placing a hand on his chest as if he might be able to feel his soul residing inside him.

"Wow. First angel to have a soulmate." Dean said with a small huff of laughter, giving Castiel a teasing shove on his shoulder. "Sorry I was the one chosen for you."

Castiel looked up to Dean with a confused frown, rearing his head back slightly at the insult Dean had just given to himself.

"Why would you be sorry?" Castiel asked

"Eh, well," Dean began awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not exactly like you were expecting a soulmate, y'know? Must be kinda disappointing to find out it's me"

"Dean... What are you talking about?" Castiel asked, stepping slightly closer to Dean. "I wish you could see your soul as I once could. To see how bright it shines, how beautiful it is. If you could see it, you would know you’re wrong. You're a _good _man, Dean. I couldn't have asked for a better soulmate."

Dean looked taken aback by Castiel’s words, head snapping up from the ground to lock eyes with Castiel, looking to see how sincere Castiel was being with his words.

"If anything, I should be the one apologizing" Castiel added.

"What?"

"Dean, we both know you never wanted a soulmate. You were quite vocal about it. I'm not an idiot Dean, I know I don't fit into the category of your usual romantic endeavors, so I'm sure I wasn't what you were expecting. Besides, I..."

Castiel trailed off, an ashamed and infuriated look appearing on his face.

"I'm no use to you now. To either of you. My powers are gone, and now... I can barely take care of myself. I've only been human for a few weeks, and I already managed to get tricked and tortured by a reaper.  
I suppose what I'm trying to say is... I understand. If you're not interested in... If you don't want me as your soulmate, I'll understand."

Castiel was expecting Dean to look relieved at this, perhaps even happy to hear he didn't have to be pressured into anything. To his surprise, Dean actually looked pained at his words. He could see his jaw shifting in place, and wondered if he was trying to work up the courage to say something, or if he was perhaps grinding his teeth.

The last thing he was expecting was for Dean to tug at his arms, pulling him forward into his chest. Dean wrapped his arms tight around Castiel’s back, knowing he wouldn't be ready to let go for a while. Castiel was warm against him, and he could feel the faint beat of his heart through his chest. A heart that, not too long ago, had stopped beating. The thought makes him tighten his hold.

It takes Castiel a few shell shocked moments to remember it was customary in these kinds of moments to hug back. He uncertainty lifts his arms up, deciding to match Dean's position and wrap them around Dean's back. He can feel the tightness of Dean's back muscles under his fingers, but they seem to soften a little once Castiel places his hands over them. Cas can't help but smile a little at this, feeling as if he still had a bit of the healing touch he once had as an angel.

"I don't care if you're an angel, or if you're human. I don't care if you can't do all the things you did for us before. That's not what I care about. I care about you, Cas. Not what you can do for us." Dean tells him, letting his hands slide from Castiel’s back to his arms as he pulls away from the hug, keeping a light hold on his hands. "I don't need you because of your power. I need _you._ I need you in that stupid trench coat and tie. I need you and your crazy obsession with bees. I need you and your compassion for humans. I need you and your rebellious nature. I need my best friend. I need my soulmate."

And before Castiel can get anything out in response, Dean gives him a warm smile, tugging him towards the door of the room.

"C'mon, Cas. Let's go home."

\- - -

It wasn't all smooth sailing from there, as it never is. Dean knew the angels were still out there, still angry, searching high and low for Cas. Ezekiel knew it too, and it wasn't all that surprising that he brought it up one morning, demanding that Castiel had to leave for all of their safety.

Dean knew there was a time when he would have caved in. Ezekiel may have been the only thing holding his brother together right now, and there was no way he was going to gamble on his brother's life.

Things were different now, though. Dean had a _soulmate_ now, how could he possibly abandon Cas to face the angels on his own? Ezekiel always sort of seemed like a no-nonsense kind of angel, so Dean had thought the best approach would be to present as much evidence as possible in Cas' defense. Even Ezekiel couldn't deny that it had been impossible for him to locate Castiel with his Enochian warding tattoo, and Dean brought up how impossible it would be to find Castiel, combining that with, not only how difficult it was to find the bunker, but also how damn near impenetrable the thing was.

That wasn't what swayed him, though. He had never really thought to bring up the whole soulmate thing with Ezekiel, and Ezekiel looked just as confused as they did when they found out, citing that it was impossible and that it had never happened before.

But as Dean began to explain further, he could have sworn he could see a flash of hope in <strike>Sams</strike> _Ezekiel's_ eyes, the first sort of emotion he had ever seen from the angel. He wasn't too sure why until Ezekiel began talking about how it must have been a sign of God, how else would an angel have miraculously developed their own soul, then been given a soulmate? 

Dean wasn't all that sold on the idea, finding it hard to believe that the big man upstairs had any interest in the two of them, let alone the fact that he was fairly certain God wasn't even home anymore.

Then again, Ezekiel had a point. If God is the only being that can create a soul, as the angels claimed, then how else did Cas get his soul? And if God did, how far back did this go? If he had been destined a soulmate since birth, was he also Castiel’s since creation? Did God pair them together, billions of years before he was even born? Was it part of God's plan all along, for Castiel to lose his grace, and to become human?

He didn't really know what to think. It was almost _too_ much to think, and quite frankly, he didn't want to argue with Ezekiel about it. Not if it meant that Cas got to stay, here, at home, with Dean, where he should be.

One of the reasons why Dean was so unsure about having a soul mate was that he feared everything would change. He thought that the moment he saw his soulmate, he would be desperate to get out of the hunter's life and settle down like all the others, to go and find that white picket fence, apple pie slice of domestic life.

It's not what happened, however. Everything is pretty much as it was. But now, now there's one more addition to the bunker. Now, he has a second person to help fret over Sam with. Now, there's another voice, this one much gravelier, humming along to whatever song is playing on the old, crackly radio in the kitchen as he cooks. Now, there are warm touches and fond smiles whenever they see each other. Life is as it always is, but now, he has his soulmate. Now, he's happier.

One night, after a filling meal of burgers, as they lazed around the bunkers table with beers in their hands and their stomachs, Sam had asked him that now he could see them, what _his _favorite color was.

There was barely any hesitation for him, barely any time he needed to think. He simply looked over to Castiel, reaching out for his hand under the table, smiling affectionately at the man next to him before answering.

"Blue."


End file.
